


Shelter From The Rain

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Tumblr Prompt, Veterinary Clinic, it's not Lucky sorry, tiny dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's just clearing off the table after his last patient of the day, when Darcy sticks her head in the door, nose wrinkled and one eyebrow arched. "Emergency walk-in, bossman."</p><p>(Tumblr prompt: Coulson is a vet and Clint has a puppy with an owie.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter From The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [chaneen](http://chaneen.livejournal.com/) for the beta. <3

Phil's just clearing off the table after his last patient of the day, when Darcy sticks her head in the door, nose wrinkled and one eyebrow arched. "Emergency walk-in, bossman."

Phil glances at his watch, considers the three episodes of Dance Moms that still sit unwatched on his DVR, then looks longingly towards the door. "Is Dr. Foster here yet?"

Darcy shakes her head. "Nah, Jane called, she said she's running a little late."

Phil frowns. "Can it wait until she gets here?"

Darcy winces delicately. "Looks a little urgent to me, boss, sorry."

Phil sighs and tells himself it's not a big deal; those episodes of Dance Moms aren't going anywhere.

*

The man standing in the waiting room is carrying something inside his zipped hoodie. When Phil approaches, the guy reaches out a hand and says, in a slightly stressed tone, "I'm Clint—uh, Barton, Clint's fine," before carefully pulling open his hoodie to reveal a small dog.

"I'm Dr. Phil Coulson," Phil says, and then turns to the dog, who cowers into Clint's body, big, blank eyes looking up at Phil with mistrust. "And who's this?"

"I, uh," Clint scratches the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know. I found him. I think maybe he was hit by a car or something? He seems hurt."

"All right," Phil says easily. It's not the first time people have brought in strays or runaways to his clinic, and he's sure it won't be the last. "Let's take a look, and then afterwards I'll check for a chip."

Nodding, Clint lets Phil lead him into one one of the exam rooms, where he carefully sets the little dog down on the table. The dog trembles and makes a pitiful whine, and Phil notices how it tries to curl in towards its right side, right hind leg carefully held to avoid putting weight on it.

"Will he be okay?" Clint asks anxiously, looking at Phil.

Phil takes in the tense set of Clint's jaw, the way Clint's eyebrows pull together in a worried frown, and how he keeps one hand on the little dog, gently resting it near its neck, one finger scratching into the fur there. "Well, I'll examine him and find out," Phil says, smiling reassuringly.

The little dog does indeed turn out to be a he, and some form of mutt. There's definitely some terrier in him, but beyond that it's a crap shoot. Phil finds a fracture in the dog's leg, but fortunately not bad enough that it requires surgery, and he's miraculously not in shock, which is really great news. There's no internal injuries or other broken bones either, so Phil's reasonably sure he wasn't hit by a car. A dog this little versus a car probably would have a more severe outcome than a small fracture to a back leg, but he doesn't mention that to Clint.

Instead he gets the leg splinted and taken care of, and once the cast is on, the little dog is already looking a little better. He's stopped whining pitifully, anyway.

Once that's done, Phil grabs his scanner and checks for a microchip, but finds nothing.

"Did you find him near where you live?" Phil asks. "Have you maybe seen him around the neighborhood?"

"Nah," Clint says. His shoulders have lowered a little since they realized the dog was going to be fine, but he's got one arm wrapped around himself and the other hand is fidgeting with the slightly frayed hem of his t-shirt. "Do you think he's homeless?"

Phil shrugs. "My first instinct is to say yes, given how dirty he is and the condition of his fur," he points, showing Clint where the fur has matted into clumps in a few areas, "but there's also the possibility that he's a runaway. If you'd like I can contact the ASPCA and see if they can help us find a place for him to recover, and look for any potential owners?"

"I can take him," Clint says quickly. "I mean—I'll take care of him."

Phil would like to say he's surprised by how fast Clint volunteered, but—he's not. Not really. Not even attempting to hide his smile, Phil chuckles and nods. "All right."

Phil gives Clint a care sheet and careful instructions, smiling at the way Clint frowns and nods, lips pursed in intense focus as he reads about warning signs to look out for. It's oddly endearing, and Phil realizes that he really wants to see Clint again, and find out how things work out with the dog.

"If he starts displaying any of these symptoms, call the emergency line," Phil says, reaching over to get one of his business cards with the clinic numbers in the corner. "Dr. Foster has tonight's shift, and she's good, very capable. If something comes up, she'll know what to do."

Then, quickly and as casually as possible, Phil grabs a pen and scribbles "Phil" along the side, as well as his cell phone number, underlining it twice.

"That's, uh, that's me. That's my number, if you—" and then, embarrassingly, doesn't know how to finish that sentence. "…if you—need me," he eventually gets out. He's not sure if he's blushing, but his face suddenly feels flaming.

At least it seems to have eased Clint's concern; his expression has slowly grown more relaxed and amused, and he's still using one hand to scratch the dog as he smirks at Phil. "If I need you, or if the dog needs you?"

Phil forces himself to not look away in embarrassment, and instead reaches out to pet the dog who's looking better, panting a little as he clearly enjoys the scratches. "Either works," he says, and is pleased that he sounds more confident than he feels.

"Yeah, okay," Clint agrees, still smiling. "Sure."

Fifteen minutes later, Clint's got the little dog tucked into his hoodie, all the care instructions folded in his back pocket, and a plastic bag hanging from one wrist, containing dog food samples. Phil walks with Clint out to the reception area, where Darcy's still hanging out.

"Hey boss, Jane's in the back so you can take off," Darcy says, without once looking up from her phone.

Phil nods at her anyway, because it's just polite. "Thanks."

"Thanks for all your help," Clint says, smiling warmly at Phil. "I really appreciate it. What's the damage?"

"Oh," Phil says, suddenly remembering that yes, he is in fact supposed to charge people for his services. "Oh. Uh." He turns to Darcy, who still doesn't look up. "Darcy, I—"

And then he makes another snap decision, and presses his lips shut, smiling back at Clint. "Actually, you know what, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

Clint's eyes widen a little, and he looks like he wants to protest—but he doesn't. Instead he says, "Oh, wow, I, uh—thanks, that's… thank you so much."

Phil just nods awkwardly and looks at where the dog is peeking out of Clint's hoodie instead of at Clint's face, because that's much safer. "Let me know how things work out," Phil says. "And uh, call if you need—anything." Me.

"I will," Clint promises. "See you around, Phil." They shake hands again, and then Clint heads out.

Phil watches him go (and only briefly glances at his ass), before turning his back to the door. "I'm gonna get ready to head out," he informs Darcy, knocking once on the reception desk.

"Mhm," Darcy says, fingers flying across her phone screen.

Phil's barely got his hand on the door knob leading to the back of the clinic, when his cell phone rings. The display shows a number Phil's not familiar with, and he frowns as he picks up. "Hello?"

"He needs a name, you know," Clint's voice says, warm and amused in Phil's ear.

Phil stops and sticks his head back through the door to look into the reception area, but there's no sign of Clint. "What?"

"A name," Clint repeats. "The dog needs a name. I can't keep calling him dog. And you said I could call if we needed anything, so…"

Phil can't hold back his smile. "How about…"

End.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Puppy Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864209) by [TeddyLaCroix (ReadyPlayerZero)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadyPlayerZero/pseuds/TeddyLaCroix)




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